


WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 DAY 9

by CuteCabaret



Series: WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 [9]
Category: Chronicles of Darkness - Fandom, New World of Darkness, Original Work, Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Requiem, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Cults, Exhibitionism, F/F, Femslash, Kinktober 2020, Ritual Sacrifice, Vampires, Whumptober 2020, femmeslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteCabaret/pseuds/CuteCabaret
Summary: Poppy decides to infiltrate a sex cult to try to rescue victims who are on the edge. Please read the notes for this one.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950670
Kudos: 3





	WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 DAY 9

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo just a heads up that this takes place in White Wolf/Onyx Path's World of Darkness universe, where everything is bleak and grimdark and depressing and ow the edge. Cults are not portrayed respectfully and realistically in that world, instead being milked for all the stereotypical horror. Thus, they are depicted as such in this work, and if that's a deal breaker for you, that's valid, the back button is right there. You've been officially warned.
> 
> Prompt: “For the Greater Good”: Ritual Sacrifice to Exhibitionism. 
> 
> Honestly, this straddles between M and E but I went with E to be safe. This one is a lot more exposition heavy, sorry about that.

The things she did to save humanity, she thought, sighing as the crowd of cloaked figured – of which she was one – parted to lead two women up to the altar. They were naked, around the same height, one sporting lovely tight corkscrew curls and the other a sleek curtain of red that reached her mid back. They were obviously gorgeous in the conventional way – what better way to induct new members than to show off the pretty ones, a promise of constant hedonism filled with the beautiful elite – nevermind the fact that the majority of women here, herself included, were statistically average. Unless you were Poppy, indeed, and saw every woman, kine and Kindred alike, as a bastion of pure amazement.

She tried to tear her eyes away from the spectacle of each woman up there getting symbolically painted with yonic symbols in red ink. That wasn’t why she was here – she scanned the crowd for skeptics, any tiny glimpse of uncertainty or doubt about this, but all eyes were on the pair of women slowly caressing each other, running their fingers all over the others’ breasts, stomach, moving around to cup butt cheeks and press hands to scalps and over nipples. It didn’t do much for her yet, but she spent the blood forcing color to her face anyway to blend in. Some members of the crowd were already stifling lewd noises and she could smell the arousal around her starting to build. She clenched her own legs together to keep her cover, as the two on stage were pushed onto a mattress that appeared from the floor. Looks like this cult was okay with fluffy pillows, meaning her mission just became a whole lot harder.

The sheets were white, typical, as the event program hyped about how these lucky initiates had studied long and hard enough to be allowed to sacrifice their maidenheads to the sisterhood. No toys or fake phalluses allowed, the leader was very clear on that – you pleasure your sister with the tools that the almighty Goddess gave you – which one, Poppy couldn’t remember, but radical feminism sex cults had their pick of all the mis- and re-appropriated pagan female deities to choose from. Already, Poppy saw an immediate flaw: It was really hard, but not impossible, to tear up the vaginal walls with just your fingers, enough to stain the sheets red like they wanted, unless you were super rough, and that kind of pace didn’t seem to vibe with the atmosphere this cult was trying to advertise: debauchery, but soft, because all women are just fragile flowers like that. Then again, they were sticking with the patriarchal myth of hymens and virginity, so who even knew with these people. The goal here, for her, was to herd away the people on the fence, save them from being sucked into something that’d either end in a doomsday prophecy or being drained of all your finances and livelihood. She used up more vitae, just to make sticking her fingers into herself easier, and saw out of the corner of her eye, at least five of her neighbors do the same. The women on stage now were scissoring, fast and hard, and dare Poppy say, frenzied, but the overseer was too lost in the enjoyment of watching to complain, it seemed. A rush of moans echoed in her ear from all directions and she was certain she’d be drowned out if she joined the chorus so she didn’t bother, although she did wrap her fingers around her own clit – she got herself going out of necessity, she may as well finish it.

Those two ladies up there were stretching it out an awful long time – enough to give Poppy a shred of hope that maybe after this, she could talk them into abandoning this utopian clusterfuck. Or maybe they were just into tantra or something. It’d fit the new age theme that groups like this seemed to draw in. They must’ve noticed themselves that tribbing wouldn’t amount to anything but orgasm, which, while intended, wasn’t the ritual blood spilling the sheets were designed for. Finally, redhead understood that if they were going to make any progress at all, things might have to get a little bit violent – she tackled her lover and dragged her hand across brown nipples hard enough to leave bruises, sucking on her neck in various spots to give a leopard pattern of hickeys. Poppy had specifically fed deliberately to not be tempted, but seeing this sort of made her wish she had someone around who’d willingly let her sink her fangs into them, if only for a moment, just to taste a drop. Only a drop.

Come to think of it, it was kind of weird this thing didn’t involve blades or something. Spooky sexy death cults with a happy coat of paint were really losing their touch if they couldn’t even show their true colors in the privacy of their own church or dungeon or whatever this was called. By now it was hard to distinguish where the rich scent of lust was coming from, so thick in the room that she could practically taste it, and the whole building was one never ending song of whimpers, moans, whines, and begging and pleading and yeah, curls up there really was begging and pleading for more and not a single note in her voice sounded like it was filled with any other emotion or sensation other than pure want. Poppy didn’t know if it was required that the blood come from the vulva or not but by now there were little drops of it on the bed, that she could smell if not see, and if she looked closely, forcing her blood to show her eyes everything in high definition detail, both of them had fingers that were definitely red – and they only got redder as they shoved them inside of each other, screeching in pain and pleasure as they scraped their inner walls with their nails. The overseer gave a triumphant cry, racing over and holding up the blood streaked sheet as she tore it off the mattress so quickly the women on it were taken aback, and the leader banged a gavel and the whole crowd descended into pandemonium. The air became a cluster of hoods and cloaks being tossed off and women pairing up with their closest neighbor to dance with tongues tracing over slits as the receiver prayed to the Goddess in ecstasy. There were hands being slapped onto bare flesh, nails hooking in like talons over breasts and clits, to be pulled away stained with spots of red, the scent of blood and sweat and sex intermingled so thickly that Poppy couldn’t discern which was which anymore. She hoped nobody got too rough to actually cause permanent injury, especially as she still dodged people looking to make her their target and went around rounding up the few members still clothed, but most of what she could see was really rough impact play and trying to violently shove fingers into pussies fast and hard. The ritual was done, so the rest of the crowd of virgins really didn’t seem to focus on actually drawing blood as much as causing and achieving orgasm as quickly as possible. Some were faster than others, and Poppy hated how their pleasurable voices made her nipples distractingly hard when she had a self-imposed job to do.

Finally, she came across a huddle of frightened newbies, grasping their cloaks around themselves like it was the only thing saving them from death by Dionysus. It probably was, come to think of it. Poppy lowered her hood and projected the full power of Majesty, if only to make sure she was understood over the ruckus in the background. The energy it took to overpower the noise made her ache for more, though, and suddenly the Beast was wrestling with the Man. She barked out advice as quick as she could – “Meet me behind the building, I’ll be there in a few.” Then she made her way back into the pile of writhing bodies, tearing her cloak off just like the rest. The animalistic wantonness was throbbing through dead veins now, and she just about managed to change the Beast’s focus from food to fucking. There were plenty to choose from, even as she ceased her powerful social aura, and she bent down to join a puddle of willing participants who gathered all around to lick her breasts, tug at her hair, press kisses over her navel and shove fingers inside her entrance. She rolled with their rhythm, whines and whimpers of pleasure escaping her lips, the throng and horde too distracted with their ministrations to notice her fangs peeking out.

With this many mouths and tongues and hands on her, it wasn’t long until she reached her peak, squeezing her thighs around the woman who’s tongue was between her and clenching her fingers around the woman’s nipples who was tweaking her own. She came in gasps and pants, the blood faking living tissue so convincingly that she felt the pleasure all and down her spine. The women around her soon followed, with a little more coaxing from Poppy’s fingers and tongue and their shouts of passion were like a well harmonized orchestra, firing off in sequence until everybody lay in an exhausted heap. Poppy dug up her cloak from the pile, when she managed to catch her false breath, knowing it by scent and feel alone, and, donning it once more, she slipped from the building to meet those skeptical recruits she cornered earlier, away from the watchful eyes of the matrons in charge.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
